Just An Average Sunday Night
by Thor
Summary: Marv's back! In this short tale I give the big guy a break as we join him on just an average night in the life.


Just An Average Sunday Night: A Tale of Detroit
    
    Plip. Plip. Plip. The sounds of the leaking gas catch my attention.
    Aw hell, this can't be good. There's a wild hissing of steam escaping
    from a radiator. The car was smashed nose first into a tree. Nearby a
    police cruiser is jammed up against it too. The front windshield of the
    car is shattered, a groaning figure lay in a bloody heap on the ground.
    A back window had also been smashed, a man's head had been dragged
    through it, his throat ripped open by the jagged glass. The police car
    is missing a door, and a windshield. No sign o the cops. What happened?
    For the life of me I can't remember.
    I'm sitting on the side of the road and watching the entire
    display. I scratch a hand through my hair, the short stubble runs
    along, prickling my palm. It's then I feel the slight stab o pain. I
    look over, somebody's shot me. Twice. In the same arm. Wonder how that
    happened? I can't seem to remember, for the life of me I can't remember.
    I look back at the crawling figure, I pull out a lighter and a
    cigarette. All right, concentrate on this one. It's Sunday. That meant
    you must have started the night down at Gurdy's. I always start my
    Sunday's there.
    Yeah, I remember now. Just an average Sunday night sucking back
    the sauce with the other losers. I was trying to tell Sam about my
    angel. The big goof had ta go and start mouthing off about things. So I
    broke his arm in a few places. Hmmm....if it was Sunday that must have
    meant Harris came in too. Meant Nancy must have done her little song
    and dance thing. Harris seemed more bitter then usual about something.
    Of course that sourpuss is always moaning and groaning about some
    plight or other. I kinda like Nancy though, nice songs, kinda old style.
    None of this Dixie Chicks crap. Naw, good old fashioned country.
    Yeah, Harris came in, watched Nancy, and then left. Same ol
    same ol. I was feeling kinda bummed out and bored so I grabbed a bottle
    o Gurdy's special brew and slipped out back to finish it in peace and
    quiet. That's when I heard the shouting. Some stupid frat boys picking
    on a wino. As though he didn't have it bad enough. I walk over closer
    while finishing off the bottle. They're kicking the hell out of him and
    pouring gas all over him. One a the pukes pulls out a lighter. I smash
    the bottle against the alley wall, I hold up the jagged end and look at
    them meaningfully.
    Crawl back into your bottle Jack says one of the little dweebs
    as he pops out a gun and caps me in the shoulder. I glance over at the
    wound, I look back at them. I guess they kinda got worried at that one,
    ran for it like all the dickens. Why'd the hell he call me Jack? It's a
    mystery. Those sort of things can really honk me off. That and he went
    and put a damn hole in my jacket. I puff on the cigarette and stand up.
    The guy on the ground is moaning and trying to crawl away. I walk over
    and stomp on his neck, it snaps.
    So they shot me, that made it clear to me who the bad guys were.
    It's okay to kill the bad guys. Hell, it was practically my civic duty!
    So I did what any good citizen would.... Their car roared down the
    street. I hung on tight to the window and punched it out. I reach in and
    grab one of them. I pull his head out and jam it down on the broken
    window, blood sprays on me. The other guy, the one who called me Jack.
    He fires again. He hits me in the same damn shoulder! I pop off the car
    and end up slamming into the hood of an oncoming cop.
    That's when I got an idea....I leap forward, smashing through
    the windshield. They yell and scream in surprise as I kick and throw
    them out. If those kids get back to a nice fancy neighborhood it would
    make things difficult for me. So I come up on them, play bumper cars for
    a while. Knock them out away from the Heights, send them trailing down
    into Dearborn. They try to get away, end up hitting a tree. I'm running
    kinda close on them so I pound into them too. At least I'm smart enough
    to hop out before I go, smash the whole damn door apart, but at least I
    don't get pounded up.
    I look down at the guy I just killed, he shoulda worn his seat
    belt. Even I know that much. Well, looks like the last two ran off.
    Including the guy who called me Jack. I could just let it go, but...I
    hate mysteries. I toss the cigarette down into the pool of gas as I leap
    off the edge of the embankment and sprint down after them. Behind me the
    cars go up in a fireball of orange light, I laugh. It's good to be
    alive! I slow down then, can't let myself get too excited. You know what
    happens when you get too excited. Bad things, don't need to start doing
    bad things.
    I'm walking along slow like. I hear their whispers of fear. They
    know I'm coming. I reach down and pick up a broken piece of pavement. I
    keep walking. They pop out, looks like they both have guns. I hurl the
    rock, it drills into the second guy, smashes his face inta pulp. The
    other guy fires twice, but he's shaky, scared. He manages to hit a damn
    bird that was sitting on a telephone wire, but he sure as hell don't hit
    me. I grab his hand and crush it around the gun. I grab his neck and pick
    him up.
    Ya shot a damn bird, I sez. He nods and blubbers. I tell him it
    ain't nice ta shoot damn birds. He starts ta agree, I shake him. I look
    into his eyes. I ask him the question. Why the hell did you call me Jack?
    Huh? He says. He just shrugs, it's an expression he says. Like saying
    what's up Jack, that's all it was. I nod. I tell him thanks for clearing
    that up for me. I snap his neck. At least I didn't get any more holes in
    my coat, and one damn fine coat it is. Somebody musta paid a fortune for
    it. I wonder who? And while I'm at it, where'd I get that pack of smokes?
    For the life of me I can't remember.


End file.
